The Spiral Path
by Quadrono
Summary: Mainly a JillChris with some LeonAdaClaire. Jill's accidently unsuccessful attempt at an easy way out leaves her with amnesia and Chris with a lot of unresolved issues to deal with. What happens when they cross paths again?
1. Sighting

"_If I can't meet you again  
I hope to forget you entirely,  
right to the depths of my heart."_

_

* * *

_

The room was small and dank.

She caught their scent before she saw them. There was something about their rotting stench that she could not ever compare to anything else that smelled rotten in the world. It made her gag a little, but she kept still; quietly breathing through her mouth to lessen what her nose would triple-fold. She felt wet from her own sweat, wet from slime that had come off onto her when she got caught, and wet and damp and dark inside where her trust in her squad had shone through. One of them was a traitor, the others were mostly likely dead because of him, she was just the last to follow suit.

She raised a hand to cautiously rub the swelling lump rising from her head; it was still very sore, and semi-wet from the thickening drying blood. In the dim light, looking at her hand, she was dismayed to see the amount of shining liquid that was smeared on it. She slowly, very slowly backed against the wall, sliding down slowly to a crouch, her eyes never leaving the door that she had barred with a small cupboard and a cabinet. The light-bulb started to flicker and suddenly she felt afraid, very afraid. It was so cold in the room and she did not want to die. Not yet and not like this.

The sudden banging from the other side of the door did not come as a surprise, but it made her jump up nevertheless. Fear spread as fast and cold as an approaching blizzard, making her blanch to a sickly white. Trembling she forced herself to ready, checking with an efficiency that bellied her fear, her guns and ammunition. A splinter of dread pricked her, she had barely enough to take half-a-dozen down, and there were many, many more outside that door. Die fighting, she thought. "Die fighting", she whispered aloud.

_ I am going to die… _

Closing her eyes, she said a short prayer. The only prayer she knew. Inside, she prayed for a quick death. To die and rot in peace without turning into an undead cannibal, for her body to remain still after she had passed. She shut her eyes harder, and said the words louder to drown out the sound of the banging furniture as it escalated. Said the words faster and faster until she could not differentiate one word from the next, meshed them together, rolling them off her tongue until the last bang was heard, silence followed by an eerie creak as the cupboard fell forward with a loud crash, allowing the unhinged door to collapse inward, allowing a hand, a leg to get inside and other groping body parts inside first. Pushing, still pushing, the walking dead came soon afterwards, moaning deep in their throats.

She levelled the gun and took aim. The gun went off. One down, two, three, four, five, six – click, click, click. The sound of an empty gun trying to be fired would remain forever in Jill Valentine's memory.

* * *

Despite the horrendous nightmare she had last night Jane Miller awoke surprisingly refreshed. She decided to lie in bed for a while, enjoying the feel of the silk sheets that her body rested on, thinking of what she was going to do today to pass her time until her fiancée returned home from work. Shopping was so boring when you could buy anything your heart desired anytime, and she did not have many friends. She would have travelled, but she learnt right from the start that her fiancée did not approve her travelling alone and she had declined his offer to allow her to on the condition that she go with a guarded escort. 

At times, she would have to admit she was lonely, but then again, that was only when he wasn't around. But, when she thought about it, she could find no reason to be _un-_happy since her life was perfect. She had an amazing man who she had only a bright future with, all the money in the world to spend… and… and… He loved her, just as she loved him.

The smile that was dreamily etched on her face wavered suddenly and just as sudden she quickly decided she would not think of things like that again. She loved him, she did. She was certain that she did. He made her happy.

_ Didn't he? _

Lazily she slipped her legs from underneath the comforter, letting them dangle from the bed to the floor before she hopped into her bedroom slippers that were sitting a foot away from the bed. She sighed and shook her head, letting the hair fly in all directions. She walked softly to the vanity and sat down on the small stool, all the while staring at her reflection and her reflection with the same azure coloured eyes stared back steadily at her. She picked up the brush off the table and rhythmically brushed her hair, feeling oddly contemplative all of a sudden. But she was used to her odd feelings; they didn't bother her too much. At times it could be a certain happiness, and at other times a bittersweet sadness that she didn't understand herself. At times she was curious, but she had learnt over the months that it was better to just let them go.

She wouldn't allow it to bother her today though. Because today was the day she was to try on her wedding dress.

* * *

"I don't like it." 

"But Miss –", the younger girl wringed her hands together, "He chose it specifically for you."

"But I don't like it. It's so… it's too… it's just…" Jane murmured mainly to herself, looking at her image in the large panelled mirrors. The dress was beautiful, certainly, with a very traditional feel about it, with long sleeves and a full skirt that was held up by many, many layers of chiffon and silk. The neck was buttoned primly up high so that there was no exposure of skin from the chin downwards.

Something inside her just said no. It wasn't her. She wanted something subtly sexy that was short and simple and without so many frills, and for the life of her she could not think why.

* * *

"_At that moment, I remembered it all.  
When I see those memories, they seem so small.  
You're far away in a place I can't reach…  
I cannot wait for these words of love to be said."_

Claire Redfield was up early today.

Looking at the still dark sky from the condominium's balcony, she felt as if the gloomy weather was somehow allowing her to wallow in her memories. Had it really been two years? Two years ago since her awful adventure at Rockfort Island? It still was fresh within her, those memories. The feeling of being alone, left behind that finally gave her a determination to go out and search for a missing family member – her only family member. It led to something, Claire could tell you that. A gruesome search in a terrifying place with only a stranger who didn't exactly want to stick around.

_ Steve..._

And Steve… It just made her so darned sad to think about him that she rarely did. But she felt even worse when she did. But then again, to not think of him at all would have been the ultimate sin in her eyes to his memory. She liked to think that she liked him then, even loved him. That she was aware of those times he watched her, secretly longing for her. The cold truth of it just left her numb. That she hadn't been aware of his feelings for her, had never known and that at that haphazard time she had never held any romantic feelings towards him. The feelings came afterwards, after that damned afterwards. And it was too late. There was no turning it back. It was just too late. Period.

Claire lets out a long sigh. The sky was turning pinkish-grey now. Chris should be up soon, she thought. She slowly walked back inside, heading to the small kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee. Thinking that Chris might want one once he wakes up, Claire decides to make two, just in case. Chris' moods weren't the best in the early mornings and prevention was always better than cure.

The aroma of freshly made coffee is one of the simple pleasures in my life, Claire thinks as she brings the mug close to her face and smells it. She closes her eyes for a little while, thinking of what she has to do today. It is the same thing that she has had to do for the past two years.

Looking up at the clock, she notices that her brother has slept in again. A regular annoyance. Picking up the other cup of coffee, she heads over to his room, softly knocking before turning the door knob and entering.

Claire glances down at the form of her sleeping brother and sighs at what she sees. She bends down and rearranges the thrown coverlet, tucking him in again, deciding from the peaceful expression on his face to let him sleep some more rather than waking up him up. The expression and the ridiculous snow cap that he must have worn to sleep since it was still on his head, tightly pulled across his eyes, made Claire wish that his sleep was truly as peaceful as it looked. She knew where that snow cap came from, and she could correctly guess the reason he was oversleeping this morning.

_ He must have spent last night awake. Thinking… of her… again... _

Claire left the room, feeling as empty as she had coming into it, leaving the cup of coffee on his bedside table.

_ This is what it has done to him… to me… to everyone…_

_

* * *

_

"_Whenever I breathe, I'm reminded of you." _

Chris Redfield woke up tired, to the sound of running water and footsteps along the corridor. Obviously his sister was already awake. Rolling over on his back, he stared at the ceiling, occasionally rubbing his eyes, all the while trying to gather his thoughts together before starting off the day.

He had thought of her last night. It wasn't a regular thing. Snatching off the snow cap he wore, he sat up in his bed, suddenly cursing. Damn, his scalp was already twitching. People would think he had cooties if he scratched his head often enough. Smelling the coffee from his bedside table, he picked it up and sips at it. Claire must have left it for him earlier.

Chris grimaces. That means, she'd have seen the cap… and later she'll probably ask me if I'm alright… and sit me down to talk to her about it… I will then reassure her that I'm fine and at long last she'll back off when she's satisfied I've persuaded myself into believing that I am. Damn, thought Chris. This is the longest dead end loop we've both fallen into.

"_Thanks, Jill. Mind if I ask what the occasion is?" _

"_Does there really need to be one?" Jill says. _

"_Well, no, I guess… if you put it that way… I just thought I missed out on something." Chris rubs the back of his neck, still thinking if he's missed something. _

"_No, you didn't. Don't fret. Just a gift, from me to you."_

"_Want to come in and have a beer or something? Or did you just want to drop off this no-occasion present and leave?" Chris jokingly asks, opening the front door wider. _

_ Jill finally breaks a smile. "I thought you'd never ask."_

_

* * *

_

_ They are standing in comfortable silence on the balcony. Jill likes the view, and is lighting her next cigarette. Chris decides to break the silence._

"_Seriously, man… Did you actually think that I'd wear this?" He asks her incredulously, looking at the garish colour of it. He can't decide whether to thank her sincerely, or joke about it and laugh it off because for all he knew, it mighthave been a humorous sort of gift, and it certainly could have been – he can never tell with her. But standing next to him, looking over the lights of the city at night, Jill just shrugs, letting the question roll off her as if she couldn't have cared less. She takes a deep drag of her cigarette. _

"_Well, it looks somewhat useful, I guess…" Chris mutters, turning the cap inside out and inspecting it for some sort of brand or something. It wasn't that it was ugly or anything, thought Chris… but it's red, for one thing, and secondly it's wool. And wool makes my skin itch. But that's not her fault, he quickly tells himself, he had never told her about his allergy to wool. Only Claire knew about it. From the corner of his eye he could see a ghost of a smile hovering on Jill's lips as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. _

"_You might need it you know, maybe. For situations and times where you might feel cold," she says absently as if making up a reason, this makes Chris look at her curiously. Jill isn't the type to indulge in idle talk much and could hardly be called relaxed – even on off days when they were having a beer together at a bar, there would always be a kind of nervousness or cautiousness which Chris's 'I've got your back, partner' never worked.._

"_And then you'll remember my ugly snow cap and wish you had brought it along." Jill finishes with a wry grin looking up at him, her eyes sparkling with rare humour. _

_ Chris wishes she could be a little more like this more often. Rare is an understatement when it comes to Jill smiling. Looking down at her and smiling, and then at the view that his balcony lent them, he decided he sincerely liked his present: itch or no. _

Of course, at that time, he had never known that she had knitted it herself. Hell, who could have known that the cool Jill Valentine knitted. She was so shy… No, Chris corrected, shaking his head, she was very reserved, but never really shy. Everything about her screamed caution: caution before she spoke, even when she spoke, caution before any action was decided, caution before and during action. He should know, how many times had she warned him of being more cautious? Many, many times… He found her fascinating. Instead of jokingly labelling her a prude like some other squad members did, he often went out of his way to be with her, enjoyed her quiet company. And more over partners, there was a deep affection that was apparent between them, they were more than good friends, but neither ever sought to tread over that.

He should have never left her to pursue Umbrella… if he had known their last talk together would have really been their last talk… he would have… would have…

_Asked her why she made the snow cap from wool... for one._

Damn Umbrella, damn Nemesis. Their unresolved relationship would never have a chance to anything now. Not when one half of it was missing and believed to be dead these past two years. It gave him a twisted feeling deep inside. It was just wrong. Just one of those many unjustified things in the world that you can't put right no matter what.

Anyhow, she had later revealed that strange piece of news much about her knitting, much later after she had presented him with that strange present. It was when they had thought themselves trapped inside a nightmarish mansion and assumed death would be the next best thing rather than being infected and undead. It took that much immense pressure of the hopeless situation for her to finally admit a lot of things.

It was also then that he realised just what an idiot he had been all along.

* * *

"_Are you cold?"_

"_No…"_

"_You're shivering."_

"_I'm not cold."_

"_You'd have to be…" Chris says, looking at her bare legs as if for the first time. They are scratched and blood is clotting in a small wound on her inner thigh._

"_Come here." He says, opening an arm out to her. _

"_No." The answer is quick. _

"_Why not? It makes sense. And I don't bite." _

"_I just… no." Jill says, moving out of his arms reach. _

"_Why are you being like this?" _

"_I just am, damn you." Jill says, without any real anger in her voice. She sits down crossed-legged near him, but still out of his reach. _

_ She leans her head back and closes her eyes. Jill inhales and exhales, deep breaths – an attempt to calm her down. She's always hated cold places, dark places… Because…It reminds me of my life before S.T.A.R.S., Jill muses to herself. Lifeless, colourless… with death close at your heels if you did not run fast enough, or hide well enough. We're going to die. I don't want to die. Not yet… There's something I still really want to do. Something I want to know. _

_ During this length of silence Chris takes the opportunity to look at her. To really look at her. Her clothes are bloodied, rips at most places. Her eyes are shut tight. And she's trembling, really shaking… But she won't let him near her. Has never allowed him near her. Even when she was down on a mission, she'd never take his hand that he'd offered for assistance. She would always quickly get up on her own two feet on her own with a smile. And still thank him nevertheless. At times her coolness was intriguing, but mostly it was perplexing. He just didn't understand her… but they worked well together, fit well together. _

"_What is it?" She suddenly asks without opening her eyes. _

_ Chris's mouth gapes a little before he snaps it shut. "No… it's nothing. I was just…" His words trail off. _

"_Looking?" She finishes questioningly, her eyes now open and looking at him raised eyebrows. Then Jill smiles; "Then, do you like what you see?" _

_ Chris grins in answer. "I do." _

_ Jill says nothing and closes her eyes again, but her smile is a little wider. She hears him move a little, in her direction. She opens her eyes to see him crouching before her, one knee up with an arm resting on it. He's getting something from his back-pocket and unfolds it before her. Her eyes widen as she recognises it as her red snow-cap. "You want this? I'll lend it to you… It's pretty warm." He puts it on; wincing a little as touches his forehead but smiles at her as if he has just accomplished some great feat and expects a kiss from mommy. Instead, all he gets is a soft, muted but unmistakable snort. _

_ Chris laughs it off as well, thanking their dark surroundings that is hiding his reddening face. But his laughter dies abruptly as he feels a cold hand brush his brow, gently rubbing where it makes contact with the cap._

_ Jill's voice is soft. "It itches doesn't it?" _

_ He sighs, thinking of all the rare times they made skin contact. Even handshakes were rare, with Jill preferring to nod her greetings. "How did you know?"_

"_I read up on your profile. When we were assigned as partners, remember? We were given each others files to read up." _

_ He frowns, remembering that he hadn't bothered to do that. _

"_If you had read up on mine," Jill continues, "You would have known that I knit."_

_ Chris looks at Jill with an odd expression in his eyes. "That ugly thing you're wearing is proof." Jill says, with a smile. Beside her, Chris feels a pang of remorse and something else stirring, slowly breaking the barriers between his feelings for her as a comrade… and his feelings for her as a woman. "Jill, I never said your cap was ugly. You did." _

"_I know." She says, as always ending the trail of conversation. But this time Chris doesn't want this conversation to end. At the same time, he does not know how to be confrontational with her since Jill is the only person who he knew who is dangerously placid. _

"_Jill…."_

"_Yes?"_

"_Lean on me a little." _

"_Why?" _

"_Do it for me." His tone is strangely strained. He realises that that should have been his line all along. It dawns on his with increasing clarity that she cares for him, and not in the way of partners. Stupid, Chris, real dumb, he thought to himself… with Jill it's always caution isn't it? And looking at her looking at him, he realises how stupid and futile it was to only realise this now… now when they were both most like to die._

_ He watches her now, knowing she'll come. Wanting her to come to him for once – just plain wanting her in his arms. There's something he wants to know, and he wastes no time beating around the bush. He touches the snow-cap, and looks at her with an intense curiosity, "Are you cold?" He repeats his earlier question, his tone leaving no room for doubt to what his meaning is. _

_ Jill studies her hands before finally raising her eyes up to meet his dark ones. "Yes."_

"_Then so am I..." _

"_What?"_

_ Chris reaches out and touches her face, lightly trailing his fingers through her short hair. His fingers stopped at her chin where he kept a hold of it with his thumb and forefinger, preventing her from pulling away. "If you are, then I am. If you aren't, then I'm not." He said, searching her face for some sort of sign to prove what his instinct screamed. "But I think you do… and I know now that I do too."_

_ Jill sighed, "Why are you talking in riddles?" _

"_Jill, you are a riddle." Chris said. "But at least I think I know what the answer to you is."_

_ Another snort and a roll of her eyes caused Chris to smile a little. _

"_Jill." _

_ Still looking up at him, her eyes flew wide open as he suddenly lowered his head and kissed her._

_

* * *

_

If he had known what hell would unleash in the immediate following moments, he would have said so much more. If someone had asked him what his most hated word is, he would have answered 'if'. The word and its meaning has made his life a living agony.

Not for the first time, he curses himself again for being such a moron for so long. He rolls out of bed and heads to the bathroom. He has a feeling that today would be a long day.

* * *

From the kitchen table, Claire eyes her brother as he emerges from his bedroom, he looks terrible. 

"Morning," she says. Chris grunts in reply and thanks her for the coffee. "How are you feeling?"

"Ace." Chris replies, lighting a cigarette, causing Claire to wear a look of disapproval on her face. It was a habit he picked up from Jill.

"Want to talk about it?" She presses, watching him finish quickly off the cigarette with a few long drags and stubbing it out in the ashtray on the coffee table in front of the couch. The smoke is still billowing around, she notices with a downward tilt to her mouth.

_ How can someone who's dead have such a long arm? _

Claire knew she was thinking stupid thoughts. Why did she think of Steve? Some things are just pointless to wonder about.

"No, I'm fine." Chris says a little testily. "Why must we always go through this?"

Claire shifts around on her feet. "Just because…"

Chris snorts. Claire frowns again – another habit picked up from Jill.

Frustrated Claire goes over to the couch and switches on the television, absently flicking through the channels for something to catch her attention and distract her from her emotions. From where she is she can hear Chris going about the living room, most probably searching for his keys and jacket.

"You're not going?" He calls out.

"You go first… I am an unofficial worker remember? A volunteer of sorts." Claire says, referring to the fact that she isn't really S.T.A.R.S. With their regrouping, she often lent her brother aid in with mostly research and the occasional back-up when needed, which was rare since her brother hated to put her in harm's way, even if it was a necessity.

"Right… See you later, sis." He says, seconds before he closes the front door, as if suddenly remembering that he is an official worker and that _he_ is late. Claire listens to his footsteps fade before she turns back to the television. The news is on, there is a story about some aristocratic fop's fiancée. She grabs the remote again. What kind of prime-time news is this? This is called news? Why not just honestly say it's tabloid? Wouldn't hurt anyone, would it?

Fumbling with the remote, Claire accidentally switches the television off, but not before she sees a face that she would never again see in her lifetime. Gasping as the screen goes black, she quickly presses buttons to make it come back on again. Her heart is thumping so hard it feels like her body is moving with each beat. The face is gone by the time the television comes back on. But Claire knows something is very wrong, she can feel it in her bones… slowly she sits up and walks over to her room. Trembling she sits down on her bed, thinking for long moments.

After a few minutes have passed and her heart rate has slowed down a little, she picks up the cordless phone that is lying on her bed. She dials a number she knows by heart and is comforted by the voice that comes though. She can hear the sounds of voices and in the background as well as a steady stream of clicks from a computer keyboard. Claire doesn't waste any time with idle talk, she gets straight to the point.

"Leon, tell me I'm delusional."

She can hear soft laughter on the other end. "Why?"

"Just say it!"

"You're delusional. Always have been, always will be. That ok?" Leon smiles as he hears the sigh of relief come through the line.

"That's good." Claire says. Leon can tell she's smiling over the phone. "It's good that I am. I'm not sure what would happen if I wasn't."

Leon is getting a little concerned and confused. "Claire, what's wrong?"

"Would you believe me?"

"Depends…."

"Ha – ha. I wouldn't believe me…"

"Try me."

"I think I just saw Jill Valentine on television…"


	2. Enter Jane

Carlos turns in his swivel chair to the sound of the door opening and heavy footsteps. Seeing Chris enter, Carlos grins as he looks him over, "Whoa, you look like crap," he says before turning back to his computer screen and scrutinizing the contents on it.

"Thanks." Chris says dryly, shrugging off his jacket and slinging it across the back of his chair.

"No problem." Carlos says. "Bad night?"

Chris slumps in his seat, bringing his feet up on the table. "You could say that…" he says, reaching to fix the angle of his computer monitor.

Carlos turns around again, "Good night?" he asks with a sly smile.

Chris laughs. "Sorry to disappoint you there."

Carlos joins in the laughter and shrugs, not bothered to pressure Chris any longer. After all every man had his own demons. Carlos thinks that what he's really had is his share but of zombies. The lesser of two evils. Mentally debating in his head, he decided demons were the preferable choice since they did not have to resemble your dead comrade or a human being, did not try to chew on you alive… Demons, he thought, just want your soul not your still living flesh.

_Goats, Carlos… humanoid with goats heads. As scary as someone saying "Boo!" from behind while you're watching Ghostbusters on a sunny day. Not a ghastly walking-dead thing that would risk dying twice out of want to eat you… _

Realising this, Carlos shook his head. That was one stupid debate. One he'd probably bring up for just for fun later to Rebecca.

"So, what's up today?" Chris asks, momentarily snapping Carlos out of his stupor.

"Huh? Oh, today… right." Carlos says quickly, tapping in commands on his console. "Keeping tabs on this new guy. He's been in regular contact a few ex-Umbrella top notches. He runs a large company – cosmetics _and _pharmaceuticals, to be specific. The company is pretty established, has stood the test of a century anyway."

"He inherited a fortune from his forefathers… and, well… you know how sharks smell blood." Carlos further explains. "If only we could all have it that easy." Carlos sighs.

Chris exaggeratedly shudders, "Comes to mind a cross-dresser that went by the name of Alfred _and _Alexia Ashford."

"Something like that, huh?" Carlos chuckles, knowing the story. "Well, it's nothing substantial… just something's not right. I just have to pin down exactly what it is, until then... I'm just happily playing stalker. With the help of Leon, of course." He adds quickly, stealing a look at Chris. There was no love lost between them, just the link called Claire.

Apparently, Carlos isn't finished. "I can't get a clear view of his face. That's what bothering me. Anywhere there are camera's to be hacked for visuals, his face is never in full view… It's got me bugged. So that's what the great Scott is there for." He says, as a way of explanation. "And he's always got great stuff, from his 'undisclosed' source."

"Ah… Mr. Scott Kennedy." Chris says, straightaway thinking of Claire. "You ever wonder where he gets his stuff from?"

Carlos chuckles, "All the time, Chris. All the time."

Chris finally looks around, noticing the quiet of their usually loud and boisterous office. "Where's Rebecca by the way? Where's Barry too, for a matter of fact?" Chris asks, realising their absences.

"You finally noticed there were people missing." Carlos says. "It took you a while. Anyway, Rebecca is testing out a sample at the basement lab and Barry called in advance to say he'd be late."

"Oh... What sample?" Chris says, feeling a headache coming on. He rubs his temples.

"Something the Leon dropped off yesterday." Carlos says. "It's something this company is working on. How he got his hands on it, I have no idea."

"Did you try asking?" Chris said dryly.

"Nope." Carlos laughs. "It's like talking to a wall when you question Leon about these things. You know what I think _would _work though?"

"What?"

"Ask your sister to do the asking." Carlos says.

"Claire?" Chris says, late to catch on to what Carlos was insinuating.

Carlos grins, "Yeah, Claire. They're close right? And I think Leon likes her."

Chris frowns, "Yeah… they are." He grudgingly admits, selectively ignoring the other statement Carlos had made. "I'll ask her then." He says, closing the topic.

* * *

"Claire…" Leon begins. 

"No. Wait. Don't _"Claire"_ me yet," Claire interrupts, mocking the patronizing way he said her name. "So anyway, we've determined that I am delusional and an utter nut that has odd notions now and then… but again could I also be right however slim that may be?"

"Claire… she's dead." He says flatly.

"But so are a lot of people, apparently." Claire says, thinking of Wesker.

"I know who you're thinking about…" Leon says, cutting her short.

"Well… yeah. So what if I am? There's always someone conveniently being erased somewhere." Claire says.

Leon suddenly feels queasy as the thought of Ada enters his mind. He is the only person in the team who knew for a fact that she is alive. "Yes… but…"

Claire sighs exaggeratedly, "But what, Leon?"

"Relax, will you? Don't jump to conclusions. It's what got you sent off to Rockfort Island, remember?"

Claire suddenly loses her enthusiasm, "Yeah… Rockfort… My bad there. I shouldn't have jumped the band wagon to find Chris."

Leon frowns, Claire still has not told him of what really happened there. Mostly what he knows is from Chris, and it doesn't amount to much. And that too if you used your imagination by a thousand fold. But he knows better than to press her about it. Something big had happened, a different sort of big, and Claire was sorely changed after it. He has often wondered why she hasn't told him about it yet.

"What are you doing now, anyway?" Claire asks, changing the subject.

Leon tries to match her mood, "Having a cup of tea. No sugar. At Le Garde De Monte's if you would care to join me."

Claire rolls her eyes, "Leon, you pansy. Seriously."

"I am serious. But actually in truth, I'm having a glass of red wine."

"Liar. You can't afford a sugar packet there."

Leon laughs. "Mr. President pays me well." Claire feels a sudden burst of annoyance, remembering a blonde slip named Ashley. Leon had been her 'date' to her senior prom, if she remembered him telling her correctly. Claire recalls the ridiculous crown that she had found at his apartment the next morning. They had even bagged King and Queen. With a sudden burst of clarity, she knew just what exactly he was doing there.

"I'm sure he does. And you're probably there with Miss Graham, I suppose? Out to impress the ditz with the money her dad fattens your wallet with?"

Leon laughs even harder. Claire thinks she'll hang up in a few if he doesn't stop. Finally, after a couple more hiccups, Leon runs out of fuel. "Whoa there, Claire. Where'd all that venom come from? And Ashley is not exactly what I'd call a ditz either, she's cool, Claire. You two should meet."

"Humph."

"How ladylike."

"Who ever said I was ladylike?" Claire retorts. Leon clears his throat.

"Actually, I'm here on a job for Carlos." Leon says.

"Huh?" Claire is now utterly confused. "What does Carlos want in Le Garde De Monte's?"

"A cup of tea?"

"Leon!"

"Alright, alright. Claire, you've definitely lost your sense of humour." Leon grumbles. "Why don't you ask him? You're on his team, after all. I'm freelance, remember?"

"Freelance, my ass. You're in it just as much as I am."

"Yup, a _volunteer._" Leon says, stretching the word. "As someone once put it."

"Shut up, Leon." Claire says cheerfully. She hears some movement in the background, the sound of chairs begin moved.

Leon watches from the reflection of his glass, watching the blonde man shake hands courteously with three other men in suits. They leave with the same hush-hush way they had entered. The man makes a phone call from his mobile, and sharply gestures with a hand to a passing waiter indicating payment of the meal. He stands up, ready to go.

"Hey. Claire. I got to get moving, my targets moving out of my view." Leon says, all traces of teasing gone from his voice, himself motioning to a waiter.

"Target?"

Leon looks at the bill and inwardly groans at the amount. _Carlos better reimburse me_."Got to go, Claire. Talk to you later." The line goes dead. Claire stares at the handle for a few seconds before replacing it on the line. A small smile gives way to a wide grin of relief. No Ashley there. Meanwhile, Claire decides not to let go of her hunch. Her head was still reeling with questions. A wedding? To whom? Shaking her head, she focused on what the question really was: Is Jill Valentine alive? Claire gritted her teeth, thinking of her brother. For better or worse, he had really cared for her. More than he'd ever admit, even to himself. But there are some things that younger sisters can sniff out with more skill than that of a tracking hound, Claire thought, smiling ruefully. She needed to know, she decides – standing up and stretching before quickly changing and heading out… if even just for his sake.

* * *

Five minutes later, Claire runs back up into the apartment. She's forgotten something. Chris would break her neck if he knew the places in his room she was going through. His desks and cupboards were not spared. He had to have one somewhere. 

Finally she finds what she was looking for. Somewhat hidden, in a small box behind his bedside table, a picture of Jill. The edges were creased and the picture looked pretty old. Jill in the picture was unlike the Jill Claire knew. The photograph was obviously a candid one, looking like it was taken without Jill's knowledge. Caught unawares, Jill's face looked softer than it had in real life, the picture taken at a side angle, catching her profile. Her eyes looking off to somewhere far away. Jill turns the picture around, "Did Chris take this picture?"

Behind the picture there is a phase written in her brother's handwriting, Claire gapes. She would have never thought her hot-headed brother to be a poet of sorts. But there is something in the lines that causes her to ache for him... for her... for everything that had gone wrong in their world.

_Why do I love in despair? When you're not there..._

Claire feels a sob catch at her throat. _For Steve.__  
_

* * *

Leon steps on to the pavement outside the restaurant, standing while everyone else is moving about him. The blonde man is still on his cell phone, leaning on a lamppost. Leon lights a cigarette, hoping it'll warm him up a little while he's waiting. It's cold outside. Leon shivers as he pulls his brown jacket tighter about him, looking at the ground, he crunches bits of dirt and melted snow beneath his boot. The clouds are overhead, making the day overcast and gloomy where it had been bright when he had entered the restaurant. 

_That long already. A long lunch. Followed by a very long phone call. _

"Seems pretty normal to me." Leon says to himself, absently watching the man. He has been following the guy for a few days now, as a sort of favour part job for Carlos. The guy, from what Leon sees, does pretty much what a normal guy does. Eats out often, stays late nights at his office, has lunches with clients, and heads back home.

Leon takes out his PDA from his pocket and scrolls through it. Still some things he needs checked out though. Carlos enjoys ragging 'freshies', enjoyed referring Leon to the greenhead rookie cop he was during the outbreak at Racoon City. Anyway, back to business, Leon reminds himself browsing through the guys info: his name was David Cameron… age twenty – eight, sole inheritor of some cosmetic's distributing company…

A movement catches his eye and Leon starts. David was moving again.

* * *

"Just great." Leon mutters, looking out the window of his cab. The traffic isn't going anywhere and he really hopes he has enough cash for what the taxi fare is going to be by the end of this ride. His cab can't help but follow the sleek black car that Mr. Cameron is seated in since the traffic is not moving at all. Leon closes his eyes, tapping his foot to the tune that is playing over the radio. That he could die of boredom would be an understatement. 

The door to his cab suddenly opened and a figure nimbly jumped in. Leon jumped, startled, hitting his head on the roof of the cab while reaching for his combat knife. A throaty laugh stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Ada." Leon breathed. "Are you trying to kill me?" He asked incredulously, looking at her easing herself into the next seat. In the driver's seat, the cab driver didn't even bother to turn around or bat an eye through the rear-view mirror, his actions made it seem like people jumped into occupied cabs everyday. Ada crossed her legs, the flimsy dress falling away at the long slit bared her long folded legs from thigh to high heels.

"Your time's not up yet, Leon. I'll give you a little notice when it's finally decided that it is." Ada said coolly, her lips curved in a smile, her eyes sparkling up laughingly at him. Leon has never learnt to differentiate Ada's sarcastic humour from her lies and her truths, but there's a tug that he feels when he's around her that he wishes he never felt. There is something so untouchable and cold about the woman, but Leon can't help but be drawn to her charisma. It doesn't help that he never knows which side she plays for either. If it was… it would probably be doomed to a very destructive relationship, Leon thought.

But he still wants to be with her. Cares for her.

_Is in love with her…_

Though he felt she could easily expire his life had her orders been to do so.

One of her hands travels to his knee where she casually rests it. Leon looks at her looking at him. "So, Leon… out on a wild goose chase again, hmm? Did you manage to analyse the sample I lentyou?"

Leon lets out a breath, and runs a hand through his hair. He realises he has missed the sound of her voice. Ada watches him.

"Not yet, Rebecca is working on it." He says, "What's the hurry?"

"There is no hurry." Ada says matter-of-factly, surprising Leon. "But then my employer does take Ms. Chamber's work very seriously."

"Then?"

"Then what?"

"To what may I owe this honour to?" Leon asks, still puzzled but many, many times more cautious now of her. He had learnt that the hard way when Ada had forced him to give up the Las Plagas sample at gunpoint after he had defeated Saddler with her help. Ada chuckles. The hairs on Leon's back stood up. When Ada laughed, it meant something. Subtly, she moved a little closer to him.

"Well… Nothing really." She says.

"You can't expect me to believe that." Leon says with a bitter laugh.

"No, I don't… I didn't." Ada says.

"Then?" Leon repeats himself.

"Then… Could it be… that I…"

"You what, Ada?" Leon says a little bit impatiently.

Ada catches herself, sucking in a drawn breath. _That was close._ She looks into his eyes while freely letting her hand run through the hair that carelessly fell across his forehead. Leon's expression is a little pained from her touch.

She decides not to torment him further, knowing the feeling would come back around full circle back to her. "Leon, I came to tell you something I thought you might find interesting."

"Took your sweet time just to tell me that…" He says, savouring the feel of her touch, but not allowing it to show.

"We're in a traffic jam, Leon. We have all the time we need, you know." She retorts softly, letting her fingers roam over his face, running them down his cheek in a caress.

"Ada…"

"The man you're following. He's harmless."

"What do you know about him?" Leon says, not surprised at her knowledge. She's the spy by profession, not him. And her employers were abundant. From what Leon knew Ada was a more than capable double-agent, freely exchanging her services and often played her own bosses. Ada would get a job done, no doubt, and on time. But the way she carried out her missions would be hers alone. The only thing that worried him was what dice she played. Whether or not she was playing him… and not just from their there-but-not-there relationship, but more of that she could actually make the difference when it came to success or failure for his teams' goals.

"He's a shrink."

"Huh?"

"That's his true profession, Leon."

"A psychiatrist?" He asks, more than a little surprised.

"Yes."

"So…?" Leon closes his eyes as her hands brush past them. His arm automatically reach out to her despite his opposing will.

"He's harmless. Like I said. But his money is making him a nice target. Lately, he has been refusing to fund several research projects, the latest having been Umbrella's." Ada's breathing deepens, she feels a little flushed. She continues, "Someone is going to kill him pretty soon if it's not me."

"A man dies just for that?" Leon asks sarcastically, hating himself for his reaction to her.

"Wake up to the real world, Leon." Ada is now slowly leaning in, softly nibbling his jaw. Her hands are toying with the hair on the back of his head.

"Ada… is that all you came to tell me?" He asks, wanting to know everything she had wanted to say before kissing her. They are speaking almost mouth to mouth, his eyes looking into her darker ones. He knows there will be no talking after their lips meet.

"Well…"

"Yes?" He says, a little breathlessly.

"Well, I think you'll find his fiancée very interesting." Ada murmurs, before forcefully pulling his head down to hers to claim his lips with hers.

* * *

"Miss Miller…" 

She snaps out of her dream-like state, turning from her reflection with a soft smile. "Yes?"

"Would you like to try out another dress?"

"Actually, I would." Jane says, lifting her wrist up to check the time. David was late. She looks at the young eager-to-please salesgirl and feels something akin to sympathy for her. "Let me see some others."

"What type of dress would you like?" the girl says as she leads the way to the racks where all the dresses are hung, "I could help you pick a few out."

Jane is fiddling with her tiara, following a little slower than the pace the salesgirl set. She keeps on thinking of something just a little sexier. But she felt a little stifled with David's choice. Just then her cell phone rang, sending her running with her bare feet to get her bag from the chair in the corner of the changing room.

David would be late.

Should she just go along with his choice of dress then? It didn't exactly appeal to her, Jane thought, but apparently it appealed to him. But it wasn't going to be him that was going to wear it. In the sitting room, she sips her tea while pondering what to do.

She slips out of the larger, more elaborate gown with the help of the salesgirl.

After a while, she stands up and browses through the racks for something that appeals to her, regardless of what David may think of it.

Time and time again, she's drawn to a chic version of a short but full skirted ball gown. The tube-like top was satiny to the touch, and the full skirt bloomed outward in many layers out at a point higher than her waist and ended at her mid-thigh, leaving much of her upper body and legs bare.

Looking at herself in the mirror now, she knows that this is what she wants. Stretching upwards, she feels absurdly free wearing it. She runs her fingers down the dress, delighting in how she looks now. She knows she wants this dress, and as she looks herself up and down in the mirror again she knows this is what she's getting. And for once in a long time, she doesn't really care what David will say. But she'll get the other dress as well, casting a look to where the other dress lay draped over the seat.

_Just as a precaution…_

_

* * *

_

"Could you wrap this one up for me?" Jane says, pointing toward the chair.

"You're choosing this one?" The girl asked, perplexed. "I thought you didn't like it."

"I'll take both."

"Both?"

Jane smiles at the girl's shocked expression. "Yes, both. Please wrap them up for me." She says, handing the girl a charge card. While rummaging through her handbag, she notices her bottles of pills lying at the bottom. She had forgotten to take them again… but she felt well enough. But she knew David would freak out if he ever knew she'd been skimping around her medication.

* * *

Leon reaches up and unbuttons the top two buttons on his shirt. The cool breeze seeps into his clothing and cools him somewhat and dries his sweat dampened shirt a little from his encounter in the cab. Ada had slipped away as suddenly as she had come. 

Following the blonde man, he steps into the bridal couture shop, and begins to absently browse through the racks. He wondered why Ada had said what she had about the guys fiancée. Ada never said anything without purpose. Did she want him out of the way?

From the corner of his eye he noticed Mr. Cameron greeting someone with a chaste kiss on the cheek. _His fiancée most presumably. _Leon moves to another rack to get a better look. The woman was petite and chic, wearing a smart white pants suit that looked perfectly tailored to her curvaceous body. The guy obviously had taste.

_Leon, what are you thinking?_ He could almost hear Claire's exasperated voice every time she caught him staring at a striking woman. But unfortunately the woman was also wearing large, fashionable sunglasses that covered most of her face up to her eyes. Her face was a delicate heart-shape and he could see she had beautiful mouth though, lips painted a deep red.

He wished he could hear what they were saying, but there was no way to do that without looking very obvious, so Leon continued to observe them from a distance, occasionally waving away an annoying salesgirl who kept on twittering at his elbow now and then.

The man was wearing a frown on his face, gesturing to the two bags that he carried, wanting to give one back to the salesgirl that hovered around Leon.

"Mr…." The salesgirl started. This time Leon took notice.

"Kennedy." Leon told her with a charming smile, much to her relief that he was now acknowledging her. She nudged her glasses upward and smiled.

"Mr. Kennedy, that lady over there bought two dresses today. I should like to be able to assist you in choosing one for your bride as well." She said with a hint of pride.

"I dare say you could." Leon said. "But I'd like to know what kind of dresses that lady over there liked." The girl nodded wisely. She thought Miss Miller was the type of woman that looked like she had stepped straight out of _Vogue _magazine

"Miss Miller over there liked the simpler types of gowns, here, like this one." She said, bringing him towards a simple but elegant ball gown. "She also preferred shorter skirts. And between you and me, I think that's what Mr. Cameron is not too happy about now."

"Really?" Leon asked, suddenly finding himself actually interested in gossip. "Why not?

"Well, sir… He chose a gown for her, it was beautiful really." She girl began. "But…"

"But? Didn't Miss Miller like it then?"

"Well, if you were someone very conservative and traditional, romantic… I supposed you _would _like it… but Miss Miller didn't. And to make a long story short, she purchased both of them."

"Two wedding gowns?"

"Yes… the one he picked for her, and the one I helped her pick out, that she liked."

"Would you happen to know Miss Miller's first name?"

"I don't know that, sir." The girl is looking at Leon strangely, coming to the conclusion that this man here had a bit of love-at-first-sight for Miss Miller. "She's already engaged, sir, as you can see. Her wedding is next weekend, she told me that much. She bought her dress rather late though." She said sympathetically, seeking to dissuade this Mr. Kennedy.

"Ah, well. I know that." Leon says, amused by her banter.

The girl sees Mr. Cameron walking towards her. "Just a minute." She says to Leon before turning and talking to Mr. Cameron. Jane comes and stands behind him. They begin to argue on which gown to return. Leon decides to stick around a little to hear it, but it quickly becomes boring, even to him. He does pick up one thing of interest though, that the man called the woman 'Jane'.

Leon smiled before quietly exiting the store. He briefly wondered what Claire had dug up today, what she was working on this time. Oh yeah, Leon remembered, she was looking for ghosts and digging up the past. Anyway, at least he found out the fiancées name. _Jane Miller._ He calls Claire up and passes her the name. He knew Claire could hack out the name pretty quickly. Feeling as if at least something has been accomplished, he makes his way back towards the make-do headquarters.

* * *

At the office Claire was laughing over a soda at something Carlos just said. Rebecca had just returned from the lab and was looking rather pale, she had not disclosed what she had found. "It's looking a little strange at the moment, a little hard to tell what it is. I haven't finished running all the required test on it though." She had said quickly, before plunking down on the chair closest to the television and began flipping the channels. 

Barry strolls through the door with a beer in his hand.

"Hey, since when are employees allowed to drink during office hours?" Chris jokes from across the room, his table already littered with empty cans.

Claire rolls her eyes, "Since never, obviously."

"Nobody's watching." Barry says, taking another swig. "Anyway, there's nothing to do. We're almost where we were before the mansion incident."

"Well, yeah – almost." Chris said. "Wesker hasn't popped up anywhere yet, so that means nothing is happening… yet."

Claire's cell phone begins to ring. It's Leon.

"Claire, I need you to do me a favor."

"Hello to you too, Leon."

"Can you find out some stuff on a person named Jane Miller?"

"Who is she?" Claire asks.

"I don't know yet."

"You don't know? How come I'm doing your homework anyway?" Claire says.

Leon chuckles, "You're the genius. And you're at the office, whereas I'm not. Happy hacking." The line goes dead.

"Pshh, that idiot man." Claire mutters before heading to her console.

"I suppose you're talking about Leon." Chris says gleefully.

"Yeah," Barry says, "Who else could _idiot man _be?"

Rebecca speaks out from the couch, "Well, it could easily be either of _you_."

Carlos laughs out loud.

"Or _you_." Rebecca says turning around at the sound. Carlos lifts his arms over his head in surrender. Chris is waving a white piece of paper. Barry is waving his sock.

Rebecca starts laughing, flopping back on to the couch. "Gross, you guys."

Claire chuckles. Turning on the screen, she first decides to do her research first before Leon's.

_Jill, Jill… What happened to you? _


End file.
